


Bon Matin is French for Good Morning

by soft_princess



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Community: gilesxander, Giles/Xander Octoberfest Challenge, M/M, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-10-15
Updated: 2008-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/pseuds/soft_princess
Summary: Canada's a very big country, that's one thing Xander remembers from his  high school geography lessons. It's big, and it's north of the US, and some places of it are really cold. That's about it.
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Xander Harris
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Bon Matin is French for Good Morning

"Giles is gone."

"What?" Xander asks distractedly. The airport isn't the best place to make a call, especially not on a busy day when there are so many people moving about. "What do you mean, gone?"

Andrew sighs at the other end, like he's done this too many times already, and then says; "There was a memo on my desk two days ago. It says "I'll be gone for a few weeks; don't look for me." I have no idea what it means except he's gone."

_"I've always wanted to visit Canada," Xander remembers Giles saying once, two months ago. Xander called in the middle of the night, Madagascar standard time; Giles had been on the verge of going to bed. They'd talked for four hours._

_"Why Canada?"_

_"I've no idea. Its history, I suppose. There's something interesting about a country that developed with at least two very distinct cultures."_

_"I guess that makes sense. For a guy like you, I mean. You'd spend all your time in the museums, wouldn't you?"_

_"Possibly," Giles admitted. "I'd also find the libraries, of course."_

_"Of course."_

"What are you going to do?" Andrew brings Xander back to the present.

"I don't know." Canada's a very big country, that's one thing Xander remembers from his high school geography lessons. It's big, and it's north of the US, and some places of it are _really_ cold. That's about it. Where would Giles have gone? "He didn't leave any clue about where he's gone to?" Xander asks, looking up at the departure screen. There are three flights leaving Heathrow for Canada; one's going to Vancouver, the other to Toronto, and the last to Montreal.

_"I suppose I'd like to visit the eastern side of the country first, get a feel for the French culture there--"_

_"Why French? Thought Canada was all English."_

"No, he didn't," Andrew replies, drawing Xander away from him memories again. "I can't find any purchases on his credit card that could lead us to where he was going."

"He must have used his personal card," Xander says. "Look, Andrew, thanks. You're gonna be fine, right? Giles didn't leave you in a ditch?"

"Nah, we're good," Andrew says.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a few days off myself, since Giles isn't there to assign me anywhere else. I'll let you know where I'm going, okay?" He would tell Andrew now, but if Giles had left so suddenly like this, it as probably to escape Andrew and the rest of them. There was no way Xander was leading the Council straight back to Giles.

He dug in his pockets for some change, and sat down at the Internet terminal. Wikipedia was his friend; it would know about French and east and which city Xander ought to be flying to.

* * *

Canada? Not so cold after all. At least, not in July.

Xander wiped his brow and looked around him. The cab area was full of everything _but_ cabs. People were standing in line, luggage at their feet and looking more than a little pissed. One guy was arguing really loudly in French with a woman in official attire.

Wikipedia had said something about New Brunswick and Quebec and French culture in Canada. And then there had been an article on Montreal, and Xander had figured out that if Giles had gone anywhere with history--for starters, at least; Xander wouldn't bet money against Giles renting a car and going to all the backwater places he could get to from here--he'd be in Montreal. Now the tricky part was figuring out where he was staying at, or, failing that, which museum he would be visiting next.

But first, Xander had to take a shower. He hadn't had one since he'd left Madagascar and that was... way too long ago to think about. (No more than a day, but for Xander, that was more than enough)

"Où allez-vous, monsieur?"

Xander looked back and found the official looking lady behind him. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, beg your pardon, where are you going?" she asked again.

"A hotel, any hotel as long as it's not so expensive I'd have to give a kidney to get in," Xander says, grinning at her. She smiles back gratefully, he's probably the first guy today who isn't yelling at her over the lack of transportation. "Know how I can get to one?"

"There's a few hotel shuttles just down the path over there," she replies, pointing to the right. "They're free and there's one for the Holiday Inn there right now; you can catch it if you hurry." 

Xander gives her a warm thank you, and grabs his suitcase, hurrying down the path. He can see the black mini-bus with the Holiday Inn logo loading passengers. The driver's giving orders in French and in English with an ease Xander's surprised to hear. He's spent a lot of time around people who call themselves bilingual lately, but their English was always so fumbled up and accented that he could barely understand--of course, the problem might have come from him, and not them, but that's a discussion for another time. This is different.

"Where's you going, sir?" the guy asks, taking Xander's suitcase and dropping it on the rack.

"Holiday Inn, isn't that what it says?"

"Which one?" the guy replies. "I got three on my route, and the next bus' got four more."

"Any," Xander says. "It doesn't matter."

"Well sir, you won't want to get off at the first one, on account of the convention there. Some kind of medical hoola or other and the place's full. Second and third are good choices, but the second one's right on the highway, so the noise can get a little tiresome."

"Third one it is," Xander answers. He's pretty sure Giles didn't end up in a Holiday Inn. If he was going on vacation to relax, he'd do it with style. He could afford it. Xander, on the other hand, couldn't.

"Okay then, sit down everyone. Assoyez-vous tout le monde, on part. Premier arrêt, Holiday Inn Aeroport de Montréal, first stop Holiday Inn Airport Montreal. Quinze minute, fifteen minutes."

It takes close to an hour to reach the third stop "Holiday Inn Midtown," and by that point Xander's soaking wet with sweat. He's more than ready for that shower. Luckily, he manages to get a room straightaway. He has to pay for an extra day, because he's early, but he doesn't care. There's no way he can wait six hours in the lobby. From the looks the clerk behind the desk's giving him, Xander looks as tired and dirty as he feels.

The room's a lot more luxurious than Xander expected. He's used to shabby places now; places that'd get barely two stars on any travel guide. The warm water's heaven, and the bed's so soft Xander doesn't want to get up four hours later when his body reminds him that airplane food do not good meals make.

He could order room service, but he noticed a few restaurants on the road leading up to the hotel, and he finds himself restless all of a sudden. He wants to find Giles ASAP and then... he has no idea, but he'll do _something_.

Eating's as good a start as any.

Xander asks the clerk for directions to the nearest food court, and receives for his effort a plan of the city with a big X on it where the man assures him there are at least four or five different _good_ restaurants to take care of his hunger. Xander follows the plan, walks out on Sherbrooke, down De Bleury, and turns left on Ste-Catherine. It's sunny and warm, and Xander's taking the time to look at the scenery. He's in front of some place called the Place-des-Arts, and the fountain's enough to make him stop for a moment, until his stomach reminds him of what he's supposed to be doing.

"Puis-je vous aider?" the lady asks him when he walks into a restaurant called "St-Hubert" on the next street corner; it smelled from the outside, and the aroma had attracted Xander to the door. He stares blankly at the hostess for a minute, trying to remember what little scraps of French he picked up in high school. Nothing. But she notices and smiles at him. "Oh, English?"

"Yes, thank you!" He smiles back and she repeats her question again, and this time, Xander understands perfectly. "Table for one, please. Also, what's good to eat here?"

She laughs at that, and leads him to a table next to the window. "Everything. You might want to try the chicken." She puts the menu down in front of him, and winks at him before she goes to meet the next client.

"Chicken, she said," Xander mutters to himself as he peruses the menu. "Okay, chicken, but _what kind_?"

"You might want to try the breasts and ribs combo, it's delicious."

It can't be that easy. Xander looks up, mouth open and blinking. "Uh, okay."

"May I sit here?" Giles asks, smiling at him, with just a hint of wariness.

"Sure, I'm not waiting for anyone."

"I didn't think you were," Giles replies. He raises his hand to ask the lady for a second menu, and she brings it over straight away. "Thank you."

"So, uh, Montreal, uh?" Xander tries, lamely.

"Yes. I imagined you, of all people, would figure it out." Giles' smile this time is a little softer.

"Left me clues, did you?" Xander folds his menu and puts his hands over it. "I had no idea where you'd be. It's a big city."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Which is why I've been keeping tabs on your credit card expenses for the past day." Giles' face is hidden behind his own menu, but Xander's pretty sure his eyes are laughing. 

"You, you figured out how to use that system?"

"No, I have my own means, you know. A phone call here or there, and the information's easy enough for me to find." It's Giles' turn to put his menu down. "I knew you'd come."

"How?" Before Giles has time to answer though, the waitress is back. She takes their order, grabs the menus and leaves.

"Curiosity," Giles answers once she's gone. "You would want to find out where I'd gone," Giles says, looking down at his hands. "At least, I hoped you would." The tone of his voice is hard to decipher and Xander's puzzled.

He isn't sure what to say. Fortunately, again, the waitress has impressive timing, and she brings them their drinks, assuring them that the food is forthcoming.

"In any case," says Giles with a smile, "I wasn't expecting you to follow me quite so fast. How are you doing?"

"Not too bad now, but things in Toamasina didn't turn out so good. I had to get out of there, so I hopped on a night flight from the capital without giving anyone a call."

"What happened?"

Xander shrugs. The experience has been the worst he's had since he started scouring the world for Slayers on Giles' call. He's had to run away from Slayers before, and a couple of parents fearing for their child's virtue, but Toamasina marks the first time Xander has been hunted by the official authorities. "Harriette--the Slayer I was approaching there--and her parents called the police on me. Said I was deranged and stalking the girl, and even had pictures to support it. It was either get out of there now, or risk the criminal charges and the jail time. As much as I like my job, doing jail for it is not in my contract."

Giles sighs, a hand reaching for glasses he hasn't worn in years; he settles for rubbing his eyes. "I'll have to send--"

"No way," Xander interrupts him before Giles can start making plans that would mean the end of this little vacation. Xander might be surprised at how Giles left, but he can't deny that Giles needs it. "You're off work and Andrew's got my report; let the guys who are filling in for you deal with it."

"Walters and Polansky won't--"

"Look, you're not superman, no matter what you might think," Xander interrupts again. "I know you're the best the Council's got, but if two guys can't do your job..." He isn't sure how to finish that thought, so he shrugs, hoping the point comes across to Giles. From the way Giles hangs his head and toys with his fork, it does. "If Walters and Polansky haven't dealt with Toamasina by the time you're back, I'm sure Andrew'll make a point of mentioning it to you."

"You're right," Giles agrees just as the waitress comes back, this time with her arms laden with plates.

Xander has to admit, the food here is good. "Thanks for the tip," he tells Giles in between two bites. "These ribs are delicious and the chicken's amazing."

Giles grins and dips a fry into the barbecue sauce. "Isn't it just? I'm glad you like it."

"So, where are you staying?" Xander thinks it's time to step away from work talk, and this is as good a place to start as any. "Don't figure you for a Holiday Inn kind of guy."

"No? Why not?" Giles raises an eyebrow at him, fork poised over his lips. "I'm not that much of a snob. The Holiday Inn has perfectly acceptable beds."

"You're staying there?" He points in the approximate direction of his hotel. Xander realizes that it looks silly when he lifts his finger, but it's already done. He shrugs and stuffs another mouthful of food to hide the slight blush on his cheeks.

"No," Giles replies. He grins at Xander, and puts down his fork. His plate is three quarters empty. "I'm staying at the Sheraton."

"That's right across the street from my hotel," Xander exclaims. He'd noticed the bigger hotel when he'd been walking, but he hadn't imagined Giles could be there, just a street away.

"Yes, it is. I was quite pleased when I realized I wouldn't have to go trolling the city to find you."

"Just how did you find me here anyway?" Xander pushes his empty plate away, patting his overfilled stomach. He hasn't had such a good meal in a long time. He smiles at the waitress as she picks up their plates, and then turns to Giles again when she's gone back to the kitchen.

"I asked the clerk at your hotel if you were in; he recalled that you'd just asked for instructions on how to find something to eat," Giles says, leaning forward to grab the dessert menu. "I followed his instructions. I was lucky that the hostess chose to sit you at the window. I saw you from the street. Do you want anything for dessert? Their sugar pie is quite delicious, and I see they have brownies."

Xander licks his lips at the thought of sugar, but his stomach complains. "Maybe later? I'm stuffed."

Giles laughs, his face crinkling at the corners of his mouth and eyes, making Xander look away. Giles always looks too... too good when he laughs. Xander has never been comfortable with the way his stomach tightens when Giles does it, when he looks the way he does now; happy, calm, even cheerful. "We could order some to go. There's a mini-fridge in my hotel room. They will keep there."

Xander's stomach tightens a lot around Giles. It's been doing it more than ever before since they left Sunnydale's crater behind. Xander's reasons for keeping himself in denial are long gone now. It's one of the many reasons he hasn't let himself settle down anywhere since then. Three years and he's still running. He knows the only place he wants to stop to breathe is in England, and settling there is...

Xander pushes the thought away, like he always does. The familiar ache in his breast is back, and just like always ignoring the thoughts that accompany it is the only way to get rid of it.

He finally decides on a brownie, while Giles orders a piece of cheesecake. With their purchase in a paper bag with a picture of a cock's head on it, they walk out into the late afternoon air. Giles leads Xander to his hotel, to the elevator, to his room on the fourth floor. It's a fairly expensive looking room, and when he sits down on the bed, waiting for Giles to put the desserts away and decidedly not looking at Giles' backside, Xander wishes the Sheraton's shuttle had been the one waiting at the airport. The bed's softer than the one in Xander's room, and the covers look warm and comfortable.

"What would you like to do?" Giles asks, straightening himself. "I was going to stay in tonight, do some light reading. I've been sightseeing ever since I arrived."

"Seeing museums, I bet," Xander says, grinning.

"Precisely." Giles smiles back and pulls the chair closer to the bed, sitting on it and picking up the Guide to Montreal book from the nightstand. "I suppose there might be some activities more suited to your tastes in here, if you'd like to look."

Xander takes the book from Giles' hands, but just puts it back on the nightstand. "Maybe tomorrow." He's tired and resisting the urge to lie down on the bed and go to sleep. This isn't his room. He should leave.

"Oh, of course," Giles says softly. "You must be exhausted. I hadn't realized."

Xander shrugs then turns to the television set. "Any movie channels playing on there?" He knows the Holiday Inn only has pay per view and a very few other channels, all Canadian, most in French. He only managed to catch the news in English earlier.

"I have no idea," admits Giles, "but if you'd like to look, be my guest. I'll be back in a moment." He disappears into the bathroom.

The remote's sitting on top of the TV and Xander picks it up, going back to settle on the bed as he turns the TV on. A rapid zapping yields the conclusion that Canadian television sucks, and he picks up the pay per view booklet to peruse the choices.

"Any luck?" Giles asks. He sits down on the bed with his hands still damp. "I think you have to pay for those," he adds when he notices the booklet Xander's holding.

"Oh, I know. And no, no luck at all on a movie network." A yawn interrupts his thoughts, and he rubs the corner of his eye distractedly. "Maybe I should go back to my hotel and get some more sleep."

"Jet lag," Giles supplies unnecessarily. "If you go to sleep for the night now, you won't get used to the time difference easily."

"So you're saying I should just try to keep myself awake?"

"No, I'm saying that you might as well have a nap here, and I'll wake you up in a couple of hours so that you don't end up sleeping too much. I've noticed a cinema theater not too far from here, and if you're up to it, I'm sure they'll have something that interests you." Giles picks up his reading glasses, putting them on his nose in a way so familiar that it has Xander aching again.

Another yawn. "Yeah, I guess that could be a plan, though I hate going to the movies on my own."

"I'm not suggesting you should. As far as I'm aware, I still count as a person, don't I?" Giles smiles as he talks, but there's a hint of uncertainty in his tone, and Xander can't stop himself from reaching out and patting Giles' hand awkwardly.

"Yeah, you do," he says hoarsely. Xander puts his own tone on the count of the tiredness and lays down over the covers. He closes his eyes when Giles returns the touch. The last sound he hears is of Giles opening a book and settling to read.

* * *


End file.
